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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514660">Purify</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harker13/pseuds/Harker13'>Harker13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Soundtracks [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Daydreaming, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Everyone Is Gay, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Inspired by Music, John feels old, Johns bisexual dilema, M/M, Mild Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Feels, really I don't know, well seems it hurts for just a second</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:41:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harker13/pseuds/Harker13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson's lovely afterglow of sex can only be clouded by a single thing: his recoil on not knowing what such a magnificent specimen as Sherlock Holmes is doing with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Soundtracks [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Purify</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So ... notes!<br/>My mind is going numb by not writing, but I can't write/practice as much as before since my fucking house is full of people! </p><p>So I ran out of prompts and since I speak Spanish, I need to keep practising in order to prevent myself from forgetting how to write in decent English. What is grammar anyway!?</p><p>This is hopefully going to be from a series where I pick a random song and try to imagine a plot from it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Why does the ceiling always seems so appalling after sex?</em>
</p><p>Probably because it helps avoid the insisting gaze of his partner silently asking him to pull himself together. Clock’s ticking and Sherlock Holmes’ is not well known for his patience.</p><p>They remained laying on the hardwood floor, panting, naked, soaked in the afterglow of what they can proudly catalogue as mind-blowing intercourse. No, that’s such a dull way to call the utter nerve-wracking fuck both have accomplished.</p><p>Sherlock’s voice was first to break the silence, “I thought you said last time was, <em>unquestionably</em>, last time”, he laughs at the absurdity of that phrase, of course it couldn’t be their last time, they had had at least thirty “<em>last times”</em> in about two months.</p><p>John winced while trying to move to a sitting position, “Shit, I think you broke my back”, resenting the weight of the years and inevitably, the weight of the man riding him senseless until a few minutes ago. He would need a chiropractor, a psychiatrist, but most of all … alcohol. Tons and tons of alcohol. The pain was manageable, but the shame of getting old was unbearable.</p><p>“It’s just a cramp.”</p><p>Sherlock dragged himself up to his chair and stuck a hand between the seat and back cushions, emerging with a crushed packet of cigarettes and what seemed to be a very expensive silver-made lighter. He pulled one little roll of death to his perfectly swollen lips, using his long slim fingers to shield the flame as the tip of it lighted with a red copper colour. A secret reward for special occasions.</p><p>John couldn’t help the warm feeling building in his lower abdomen. That pair of prominent cheekbones sucking the obscenely phallic shape of the cigarette (which he hadn’t noticed until that precise moment), made him feel suddenly eager to deep throat his way down to Sherlock’s now resting cock. Since when he was willing to offer his mouth in exchange for this Adonis to look at him greet an acknowledging smile, suggesting – <em>Go ahead, do it, I won’t mind –</em>?</p><p>Sherlock’s obvious mind-reading abilities quickly caught up with John’s turmoil of thoughts, snapping him out with a lewd kiss. A slow and tender progression while he straddled him, resting his chest over his now entwined hands, “Tell me how I can help?”</p><p>“Brilliant, now I feel like I…”- <em>like</em> <em>I became the creepy old man who likes to fuck much younger blokes to feel less decaying. </em>He huffs and returns his gaze to a so very fascinating damp patch on the ceiling.</p><p>“You’re not raping me, you’re not paying me, I’m not a prostitute, and you’re not a creep. Does that cover the whole catalogue of shameful sins you’re breaking down?”</p><p>Silence elongated for a minute longer, but their gaze never fell Realising that his efforts to continue the sensual vibe would be futile, he returned to his position next to John, face-up facing the ceiling ... indeed, it was a very interesting damp stain.</p><p>“Give me drag”, he said while extending his hand towards Sherlock.</p><p>“Thought you were ready to lecture me about the dangers of smoking.”</p><p>“I want to… but got distracted by how fucking hot you look doing it.”</p><p>And is in that precise moment that John realized how this was not going to be last time, again. He promised himself that first night two months ago was just an accident. An erotic accident that could have been catalogued inside his imaginary folder of - <strong><em>Ways I’m trying to convince myself that Sherlock Holmes’ dick fortuitously got stuck in my mouth: Part 8 of 20</em></strong> –.</p><p>The way his eyes closed with each drag making his chest contract, his leg bend by the knee. How much this would've helped during med school long study nights. He could have invented a new system to catalogue and explain the Lower Muscular System; 5 quids for a seat.</p><p>
  <em>"Ok, everyone! May I borrow your attention for a second while I show you, with the help of my godsend assistant, each discrete organ constructed of skeletal muscle tissue, blood vessels, tendons, and nerves. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Darling, please put your knee over my shoulder and wrap it around my neck like yesterday, perfect … now … lesson one: anterior muscles".</em>
</p><p>"John"</p><p>Sherlock called since John didn't realize he was daydreaming, looking at him fondly while his neglected cock began to drip.</p><p>"Are you having a stroke?”</p><p>But the good doctor took all his remaining bravado, drawing back his attention to Sherlock’s perfectly toned legs, pulling out his tongue in shape to lick his way up to an anatomy class like those he always would’ve wanted to impart.</p><p>“Quadriceps Femoris … “</p><p>Sherlock held the cigarette between his lips while holding himself by the elbows, letting himself be worshipped by his silver-haired doctor, nibbling his way up to the next muscle.</p><p>“Iliopsoas…”, another long lick traced Sherlocks pale skin, “Sartorius…”.</p><p>Shivers started to rove down his spine, not ever knowing that the soft spots of his legs could feel so arousing. He realised it was not his anatomy and perfect genes doing the work. John's tender care and sweetness, always gentle and caring. Soft on the inside but ready to slash your throat without blinking, if the situation required it.</p><p>This man was not ageing; he just didn't realise how all his knowledge longed to be applied to a much younger specimen.</p><p>John shifted to Sherlock's other leg, bringing it up to his shoulder, engulfing his shaft in one quick movement, making Sherlock's head fall back and abandon the almost burnt cigarette.</p><p>A moan left his lips, as he tried to keep it together to speak, his voice came out raspy, "You're so my kind…"</p><p>John's smirk was visible even with half of Sherlock's prick invading his mouth, "… how? erotic and divine?"</p><p>“Pure.”</p><p>John scoffed at the affirmation, the nerves. He thanked the gesture but surely, he stopped being pure a long time ago.</p><p>“I said pure, I didn’t say virginal”, he jerked his head forward to look down at the figure now expecting between his legs,” There is an Oriental say… a man is whatever room he is in, and nothing more.</p><p>You’re not your fear of what all of this may mean regarding your immediate future, nor your reluctance to look at me while I admire you… besides the look in your face each time you realise you’re not as straight as you thought is quite precious, now, would you be so kind as to keep sucking me until you gag?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>And with that, John stood up to his knees, cradling Sherlock’s head, sticking one thumb down his mouth, watching as his neck veins contracted around it. His lover’s hands stroked down his arse tightening the grip on each cheek.</p><p>New marks will surely appear above a couple of blackish spots, witnesses of their secret encounters over morgue tables, dessert alleys and Lestrade’s office at 3 am (oh, well…). They surrendered to the urge to kiss, an all-consuming frenzy of lust, their groans and heavy panting drowned out every other noise around them.</p><p>Sherlock traced long desperate kisses down John’s jaw, biting hard at the nape of his neck, making sure everyone will know for the next week (at least) this gorgeous man is loved and cared for. John’s hands held from Sherlock’s shoulders, digging his nails into it with each new bite on his skin. They came together, from just the friction between their legs, collapsing over each other.</p><p>After a deserved moment to catch his breath, Sherlock finally spoke, wrapping his arms around his lover’s torso.</p><p>“Now that I think about it… I could be a great prostitute.”</p><p>His gaze found John’s confused eyes.</p><p>“Come on, John … you are going to pay me in cuddles and Jaffa cakes.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This short scene is brought to you guys thanks to Placebo.</p><p>The song is - "Purify".</p></blockquote></div></div>
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